


Only go so far ('til they bury you)

by dishonestdreams



Series: Thanks for the Venom [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Biting, Blood, Bruises, Kissing, M/M, Manhandling, Pain Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:31:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22435342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dishonestdreams/pseuds/dishonestdreams
Summary: "You don't fucking want this."
Relationships: Frank Iero/Brendon Urie
Series: Thanks for the Venom [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642453
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	Only go so far ('til they bury you)

**Author's Note:**

> Look, so, this scene invaded my head, and it wouldn't fucking quit and it fits with _nothing_ I am currently trying to write, so I needed to get it out.
> 
> And I am not, I am _not_ writing many thousands of words of Frank and Brendon exploring Brendon's pain kink and negotiating consent badly (although, if anyone else wants to write that, I would absolutely read the _shit_ out of it. Just saying). 
> 
> Anyway, this is it; quick, dirty and unbeta'd, from my brain to yours. Enjoy.

Frank’s on him in an instant, and Brendon’s spine curves as his shoulder blades collide painfully with the wall. Frank’s stance is wide, boxing Brendon in, and his fingers wrap bitingly tight around Brendon’s wrists, His calluses are rough and abrasive against Brendon’s skin as he drags Brendon’s hands up and slams them back against the wall either side of his head so hard that Brendon thinks they might bruise.

He’s okay with that.

“Pushy little fuck,” Frank says, and there’s a glint in his eye that makes Brendon’s stomach flip and somersault, that makes him wonder if maybe, _maybe_ he’s bitten off more than he can chew. Then Frank kisses him, hard and demanding and not taking no for an answer, and Brendon doesn’t have time to wonder. Frank’s got him pinned like a bug on a corkboard; all wiry muscle, hot lips and clever tongue, and Brendon can’t help but open up for him. Frank makes a satisfied noise in the back of this throat, and licks and bites his way into Brendon’s mouth. It’s good, it’s so fucking _good_ and then Frank shifts, sinking his teeth savagely into Brendon’s bottom lip and Brendon feels his skin split under Frank’s assault.

Brendon whimpers despite himself, his fingers clutching uselessly at thin air, because it fucking _hurts_, but there’s something misfiring in his brain, because all that pleasure and all that pain are getting tangled together, sending confused sensation ricocheting through him. There are tears in his eyes, and a sob choked in the back of his throat, trapped behind Frank’s mouth, but he’s _hard_, something dark and desperate fizzing under his skin. It's burning him up, but in a terribly good way and he wants Frank to stop, he _does_.

But not half as much as he wants Frank to keep going.

Frank pulls back, releasing Brendon’s lip from between his teeth, and it sends an exhilarating giddy rush spiralling through Brendon. Frank just looks at him, his tongue flicking out to sweep against the dark red smears on his lips. _Blood_, Brendon thinks dizzily, _that’s my blood_ and he twitches against Franks hold as that knowledge scours through him.

“You don’t fucking want this,” Frank says, low and brutal, and he steps away, releasing Brendon’s arms and leaving him to sag back against the wall like a puppet whose strings have been cut. “Go flirt with your guitarist and fuck around with your pretty scene kids before I fucking _ruin_ you. You don’t want what I’m offering.”

He turns away, his intention to just _leave_ Brendon here clear as day, and Brendon _flies_ off the wall, one hand clutching at Frank’s shirt, while he grabs at Franks wrist with the other. He thinks he catches Frank unawares, and it’s the only reason he’s able to yank Frank’s hand to where he wants it, pressing Frank’s palm down against where he’s hard inside his jeans. Frank’s eyes widen, his fingers tightening against Brendon’s cock through two layers of fabric and Brendon’s hips twitch reflexively against his hold.

“Stop telling me what I don’t want,” he bites out, “And hurt me, fucker.”

Frank doesn’t move for a drawn-out breath, tension thrumming through him, and it’s just long enough for the dread to start slithering down Brendon’s spine because, _fuck_, god, if he’s misread this…

Frank twists his wrist hard enough to break Brendon’s hold, and he releases Brendon’s cock to catch his hand again, his fingers biting back into Brendon’s wrist in a more brutal and painful version of Brendon’s hold on him. He fists his other hand in Brendon’s shirt and jerks him forward, pulling Brendon off balance so that he stumbles against Frank’s chest before he can catch himself. Brendon doesn’t have time to react before Frank’s sinking his teeth back into his lip and Frank’s mouth catches the strangled shout that Brendon didn’t mean to let out as his lip cracks open again in a fiery burst of pain.

“Fine,” Frank mutters against his mouth. His chapped lips catch against Brendon’s abused skin, and Brendon shakes at the sting, feeling like he’s about to fly apart at the seams. Like Frank’s _ripping_ him apart at the seams, and, _fuck_. “Just remember, later. You fucking asked for this.”

Brendon chokes on a laugh, and he digs his fingers hard into Frank’s shoulder, because _yeah_, he did.

He’s pretty sure he’s not going to regret it.


End file.
